by BJ Wane
“Again, I’m not the doctor’s anything. Nice to meet you. I’m Lillian.” Lillian shook his hand, bemused by how fast and far word had spread of the short time she’d spent snowed in with their resident physician.
“If you say so, Lillian.” He turned back to Nan who had poured him a to-go cup. “Thank you. I’ve got to be in court this afternoon, wait for me and we’ll go home together.” He pinched Nan’s chin. “I’m sure you can find something to amuse you until I get back from Billings.”
“I’m sure I can,” Nan drawled. “See you this evening.”
“He is so hot.” Avery fanned herself and Lillian had to agree as they watched him stroll out. There was something about the way the two of them looked at each other that prompted her to tighten her legs to still her quivering pussy.
Uncomfortable with her response, Lillian retorted without thinking, “He’s as bossy as Mitchell,” and then lifted stricken eyes up to Nan. “I’m sorry. That sounded rude.”
Nan laughed. “No it didn’t, it sounded honest. And accurate, he is bossy. I don’t mind at the club, in fact, I love giving him control there. I didn’t argue with him just now because I know he worries about me driving after dark when the roads are so much worse. You learn to pick your battles when you’re married to a dominant man. Since I’ll still be around this evening, how about dinner at Dale’s Diner on the corner?”
Lillian marveled at the way both women welcomed her without hesitation, offering their time and company without pause to a stranger. Maybe they were curious about what went on with her and Mitchell, or maybe they were just nice people. Either way, their friendly overtures this morning meant a lot. “Can I give you my number and let you know after I get back to the motel? To be honest, I may not want to get out in the cold again.”
“Can’t blame you. Sure. I’ll call when I’m ready to close up. Avery, I’ll see you Saturday. You two take your time. I’ve got to get ready for the noon crowd.”
By the time Avery dropped her off at the art store, the sun shone high in a bright blue sky and the temperature had risen above freezing. “If I don’t see you again, it was nice meeting you,” Lillian said as she opened the car door. “Thank you for a nice morning.”
“My pleasure. I was a stranger in town not long ago and remember how alone I felt until I met a few people. If you decide to stick around a little longer, give me or Nan a call.”
“I’ll see how it goes. Tell the sheriff hi for me.”
Avery waved and pulled away as Lillian entered the store, the sharp, nose tickling scent of paints turning her fingers itchy to get back to work. With everything that had happened in the past week, it was doubtful she would still attend the Naples Art Show next week, and that was a good thing. Given her frame of mind, she wouldn’t have made a favorable impression on anyone even if the work she planned to enter was some of her best.
She spent two hours in the store and made the owner’s day with her purchases. After arranging to have them delivered to the motel, she set out on foot, figuring she could call Bob if she got too cold or tired before reaching the motel. The walk was necessary to clear her head as she couldn’t help the images planted in her mind from listening to Avery and Nan describe their husbands and relationships with them. After what Brad had subjected her to with his blackmailed control, she couldn’t imagine ever becoming a willing partner in such a relationship. It didn’t matter that her body grew warm and tingly when she thought of turning herself over to Mitchell’s dominant care. If she went off like a firecracker from having his hands on and in her, what would it be like to give herself over to his fully controlled possession?
Lillian shuddered as she imagined the possible heights he could drive her to. Lifting her face to the sun, she let the rays add additional warmth to her overheated body. There was no way of knowing if her strong, uncharacteristic reaction that night had been due to stress and/or grief, or a buildup of needy lust. She never denied Mitchell was an attractive, sexy man even if his bossy attitude turned her off. What turned her on had been those light slaps that left her aching for more and his talented fingers invading her body with ruthless determination and possession, wringing multiple orgasms from her before he was through.
After reaching the motel and letting Bob know she didn’t need the ride, Lillian warmed up in the shower and spent the rest of the afternoon painting. She was so immersed in her art, she jumped when her phone buzzed and Nan asked if she wanted to go to dinner.
“Is it that late already?” Glancing at the time, she saw it was almost six.
“Yes, and I’m starving. Dan will be at least another hour and Gertie’s special is fried shrimp tonight. I can be there in ten minutes to get you.”
“I’ll be ready. Thanks, Nan.”
“Don’t just stand there expectin’ me to escort you to a seat. Grab a stool.”
Nan smiled at the scowling older woman bustling behind the long counter inside Dale’s Diner. “Gertie, be nice. Lillian is stranded here until Mort gets her car fixed.”
Lillian eyed the crotchety woman with a bemused expression as she took a seat next to Nan. The corner diner resembling something out of the fifties with its black and white checkered floor and juke boxes in every booth was almost full, and if the food was half as good as it smelled, she understood why.
Slapping a menu down in front of her, Gertie gave her bruised face a critical once over before nodding, as if coming to some kind of conclusion about her. “I see our doc took good care of you. Next time, don’t be out on those back roads with weather coming in. There’s still shrimp left, if you want the special.”
“I take it Gertie’s sparkling personality is why this place is so popular,” Lillian drawled with humorous sarcasm as Gertie turned to grab two filled plates off the shelf separating the kitchen from the counter.
“Don’t let her fool you. She blusters a lot but has a heart as big as Montana. She gave Avery a job when she came to town alone and almost broke and never asked questions when Avery said she needed to be paid in cash. Instead, she offered to let her stay in the upstairs apartment as part of her salary.”
“I sense a story there.” Lillian scanned the menu, leaving it up to Nan whether to say more about how Avery had come to Willow Springs.
“Yes, but it’s hers to tell. It ended well for her, though, and she snagged our hot sheriff to boot.”
A shudder rippled through her as she recalled Sheriff Monroe’s icy glare when he saw her face. “He’s a little scary, and I don’t scare easily.”
Nan chuckled. “Like our Gertie, Grayson’s glare and sharp mouth is mostly bluster. I wouldn’t attempt to rub him the wrong way at the club, but I’d trust him with my life, and to have my back, just as I would any of my friends, including Doctor Hoffstetter. C’mon, Lillian,” she coaxed with an elbow nudge. “Spill about you and Mitchell. No red-blooded woman could stay closed up with him for long and not beg to get naked with him.”
“You’re married,” Lillian reminded her with an arched brow.
“But I’m not dead. I can look and fantasize.”
Gertie returned and they ordered the special, giving Lillian a minute to gather her thoughts. A change of subject was definitely in order. “Sorry, but there’s nothing to tell, like I said earlier. And if he’s a member of that club, I now know why we didn’t hit it off. No offense, but that’s not my thing.” Waving a hand around her face, she said bluntly, “One man beating on me was enough for a lifetime.” Which didn’t explain why she’d responded so strongly to those teasing butt taps.
“Yeah, and I’m sorry for you. I have experience with an abuser myself, and could tell you there’s a world of difference, like comparing apples to oranges, but it’s something that can’t be explained. You either see it, experience it and know, or you don’t.” Nan paused as Gertie set their plates in front of them.
“There you go. Eat up, you’re both too skinny.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice. Thanks, Gertie.” Nan bit into
a large, crusted shrimp and then changed the subject, much to Lillian’s relief. “Where are you headed once you get your car back?”
Anywhere. Nowhere. “I haven’t decided yet. Once I was free of that jerk, I just took off.”
Nan nodded. “I get that. Sometimes running without looking back or forward is easier than staying still and learning to adjust.”
Lillian dropped a shrimp tail on the plate, eyeing her askance. “Is that what you did, learned to adjust?”
“Nope, just the opposite. I stayed still and didn’t cope, not as well as I’d thought, even after counseling. Thankfully, my friends, Dan being the most important, showed me the error of my thinking and then offered me unconditional support. You know, Lillian, if you don’t have anywhere you have to be, you could do worse than hanging around here for a while.”
She scooped up a forkful of mashed potatoes then paused to reply, “And how long would that take to get around?”
“Hey, cut us some slack,” Nan protested with a wide grin. “It’s winter and we get bored.”
“Glad my mishap could entertain everyone. Trust me, Mitchell wasn’t entertained.” And why that caused her chest to tighten, she hadn’t a clue.
“Now that I believe. Our good doctor likes to keep his distance.”
“Except at your club?”
Nan shrugged. “Well, yeah. There, he gives his play partner his full attention and no one has walked away from a scene unhappy. He’s still grieving for his wife.”
Liana’s laughing face popped into Lillian’s head and a pang gripped her stomach. Grief she could commiserate with and now understood Mitchell’s compassionate patience with her presence better. It seemed they shared one thing in common after all. “Yeah,” she sighed, “that must be rough.”
Mitchell returned to his Craftsman house on an acre of land just inside Willow Springs city limits Saturday morning, a day earlier than he’d planned, and he wasn’t happy about it. Grabbing his duffel out of the back of his Tahoe, he flicked the garage door opener before walking out and crossing the drive to enter the house through the side door. After cranking up the heat, he poured himself a stiff whiskey and padded over to an eight-by-ten-inch picture of Abbie perched on the fireplace mantle. The quiet retreat he’d planned around their anniversary had been interrupted and then, because he was spending more time thinking about a pair of haunted purple eyes instead of his wife’s loving blue gaze, frustration prompted him to cut it short. And that did not sit well with him.
He’d met Abbie at a Valentine’s party at a Denver club, married her on February fourteenth a year later and she died on February fifteenth seven years after that. Eight years was not enough; at the time, he’d thought a lifetime wouldn’t be enough. Looking at her shy expression, cloud of blonde hair and bright blue eyes, she was nothing like Lillian, and yet, he found himself comparing the two women way too much after saying goodbye to Lillian.
The flashes of pain-driven determination he’d caught crossing her bruised face more than once got to him in a way he couldn’t define, at least, not yet. Whatever the extent of that bastard’s abuse, she didn’t cower from it, and he didn’t care for the pinch of guilt pricking his conscience whenever he questioned whether he should have pressed her for answers. None of my business. That’s what he’d been telling himself since bringing her into his cabin. He didn’t want to get involved with her or her problems, so why had he wrestled with sleep the past few nights, and why couldn’t he shove aside the regret and shame he’d caught in her dark eyes before she would don a polite mask of indifference?
“You know, baby,” he murmured to Abbie’s picture as he traced a finger over her face, “I think you would have liked Lillian’s grit in the face of her trauma. You were always more compassionate than me.”
Mitchell remembered Lillian’s anger when he’d called her baby, and the defiance etched on her pale face as she lay in the snow under him and refuted being raped. He wasn’t a shrink, but there was no arguing the woman was bottled up tight in denial. But again, not his problem. She was likely gone by now, hundreds of miles away and possibly giving him the finger in the rearview mirror. Why that image tugged at the corners of his mouth, he couldn’t imagine.
Tossing back his whiskey, he strode to the antique roll top desk in the corner and flipped through a week’s worth of mail. Seeing nothing pressing, he considered giving his mother a call and then opted to put it off until the next day. He and his sister couldn’t have asked for better parents growing up, and now that his dad was gone and he’d made the move to Montana, he made sure he kept in touch with both of them.
Mitchell grabbed his bag of dirty clothes and carried it into the laundry room off the kitchen, which was in the middle of a renovation. He’d purchased the dated house for a good price and spent his down time remodeling, which was why it was taking so long. He’d left Denver, and his prestigious position as the head of a trauma center, for a slower, calmer pace of life, hoping the drastic change would help him move on from losing Abbie. Now, over eight months later, the jury was still out on whether that was the right decision.
After starting a load of wash, Mitchell debated whether to go out for something to eat or settle for a frozen dinner and opted for the diner, which was as good as a home-cooked meal. Afterward, maybe he would drive out to The Barn and socialize. He enjoyed his new friends and their private club even more than the people and venue he’d left behind. Here, there were no pitying looks or well-meaning condolences that kept his grief at the forefront. The changes he’d made in his life hadn’t been easy, but overall, the small town of Willow Springs and the people who welcomed him into their close-knit group were proving a good fit for him.
Neither snow nor frigid temperatures kept people home much in Montana, as demonstrated when Mitchell parked in front of Dale’s Diner an hour later and he could see the Saturday night crowd through the window. Hungry for Gertie’s chicken fried steak smothered in cream gravy, he entered the diner looking for an empty seat or someone he could join at their table. Instead, his eyes zeroed in on the woman perched at the counter, her cascade of dark auburn hair familiar enough to give him a jolt.
Why the hell was Lillian Gillespie still in town?
“Grab that last stool at the counter, Doc, and I’ll be right with you,” Barbara, the waitress tossed out as she breezed by him carrying a laden tray. “We’re swamped tonight.”
“Thanks, and no hurry, Barbara.” Seeing no way out of it, not if he wanted to eat tonight, Mitchell slid onto the seat next to Lillian, removed his hat and tunneled his fingers through his hair. Her small gasp indicated she was as surprised to see him as he was at finding her here. “Didn’t Mort get your car fixed?” Those striking eyes narrowed, and her soft lips tightened in annoyance. Yeah, that sounded rude, but he’d been unprepared for his gut-wrenching reaction at seeing her again.
“Yes, he did. I wasn’t aware that meant I had to leave right away,” she stated in a frigid tone.
He sighed, reaching up to squeeze her shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I wasn’t expecting to see you here, is all.”
She shrugged under his hand and averted her eyes. “I didn’t plan on sticking around, but I met a few people who convinced me this was a nice place to hang for a while.” She faced him again, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t worry, Doctor Hoffstetter, I promise not to intrude on your space.”
Gertie snatched a steaming plate off the ledge and set it down in front of Lillian in time to hear her remark. Scowling, she pointed a finger at Mitchell. “Are you being rude to one of my customers?”
“No, ma’am, I leave that up to you,” he drawled. “I’d like the chicken fried steak with the works, please.”
“Hmmph, as if I didn’t already know that.” Turning her back on them, she called out, “Get me another special, Ed!”
A wide smile lightened Lillian’s face and Mitchell was taken aback by how it transformed her from cute to eye-catching attractive.
The smattering of freckles decorating her pert nose below her large, expressive eyes added to the overall appeal of her looks, but the fading, yellow-tinged bruises reminded him of her troubles.
“She’s one of the reasons I like coming in here. I get a kick out of her. She has a knack for making you feel welcome while grumbling.” Looking at her plate filled with meatloaf, baked potato and green beans, Lillian added, “And she insists on giving me enough food for three meals.”
Thinking to make up for his earlier insensitivity, he waited until she swallowed a bite of meatloaf before running a finger over her marred cheek. “Want me to beat him up for you?”
She leaned into his hand without realizing it and Mitchell’s cock stirred with an unwelcome quick jolt of lust. “Not necessary but thanks.”
Controlling himself, he trailed his finger down to the small cut in the corner of her mouth. “The person who did this, was he a friend then lover before revealing his true nature? That’s often how abusive relationships begin.”
She paled at that question and then reddened as she moved her head enough to lose his touch. “He’s an asshole who enjoys wielding power over people to get what he wants.”
Shame colored her tone and the urge to pound on something tightened his abdomen in a response he understood and accepted. “And he wanted you. Did your relationship with him have anything to do with your sister’s death?” The spasm of grief that turned Lillian’s eyes watery cut Mitchell to the quick. He knew how a casual inquiry could stir up the misery of loss. Maybe he wasn’t the one to get her to open up and face her demons.
The doctor couldn’t have asked a better question to defuse Lillian’s heated response to seeing him again. Every cell in her body had gone on high alert when he’d taken a seat next to her, his large body so close all she could think about was when he’d set aside his irritation long enough to help her cope with her sorrow. She blinked back the tears before they fell and strove to get herself under control. His question hit too near to the truth for comfort. Brad might not have been directly responsible for Liana’s death, but she would always blame him for taking advantage of her sister’s medical condition to get what he wanted from Lillian. She’d caved to his blackmail because he’d left her no choice, but that didn’t lessen the shame of putting up with his abuse for those four weeks instead of telling him to go to Hell.
